A Home
by Iaurore
Summary: After years of estrangement, Mr. Darcy (widower of Miss de Bourgh, who died in childbirth) and Elizabeth (now a wealthy, childless widow in east Derbyshire) renew their slight acquaintence. Will true love conquer the odds? Please read & review. Completed!
1. Chapter One

~HOME~  
  
A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic

   
Chapter One  
  


Elizabeth Bennet had been the youngest child in her father's house for scarcely less than a year. She did not mind in the least her circumstance, except that sometimes she wished it different for her sister Jane's sake, believing Jane would rather be married. But, as Jane did not show this sentiment outwardly, and the two sisters were wholly devoted to each other, Elizabeth could not justify her impression.

As for her other sisters, they were all married, in various degrees of respectability. When Lydia had gone to Brighton with Mrs. Forster, she had become better acquainted with, and therefore better attached to, a newly promoted colonel by the name of Truly, who her family had been hardly more than introduced to during the time that the regiment had been stationed at Meryton. He, being nearly as foolish as Lydia herself, was quite as fond of Lydia as she could hope, and so when Lydia was to return to Longbourn, he communicated his affection and an engagement was formed. He wrote to her parents, assuring them of the amount of his fortune and is regard for their daughter, and secured their consent. All was correct in his actions; he transferred to the regulars and married her as soon as his leave was secured. Mrs. Bennet only found disappointment from the requirement that the Colonel should be reassigned to a place at such a distance that would only allow for a yearly visit. It was, however, the crown of _Mr._ Bennet's satisfaction.

The Bennets hoped that after Kitty's greatest shortcoming, Lydia's influence, was removed, she would grow more sensible. This proved to be the case, for she recovered from the loss of the officers by encouraging a young man who Lydia would have abused. Mr. Carter, though not plain or at all unintelligent and having a decent fortune and connections, was excessively quiet natured. Kitty understood the value of fortune and connections through Elizabeth and Jane's guidance, the value a handsome person from Lydia, but the source her appreciation for reserve was unaccountable. Nevertheless, she gained her father's and two elder sisters' respect for her preference. They were married approximately eighteen months after Lydia and were very happy together.

Kitty was pressed to often have Mary at her home in Meryton, but Kitty was so little inclined towards it, and Mary wished so little to part from her studies, that it took nearly two years for one of Mr. Carter's particular friends and Mary to formulate an inclination to marry. Mr. Roring was extremely well read, principled, and had a spirit of activity, and, as Mary sadly found later in their marriage, prone to having a sharp tongue when out of humor, thus insuring that his wife would never assert herself to act or speak against him. She spent her days divided between endeavoring to please her husband, and reading to comfort troubled feelings derived from the latest ineffective attempt.

The Bennets were still closely acquainted with the Lucases, but they were so well acquainted with them that it could not but be welcome when Mr. Bingley returned to Netherfield, and brought a friend with him. Mr. Richard Follows was wealthy, agreeable, pragmatic, and handsome for a man of two and forty. 

It soon became perceptible to Elizabeth that Mr. Follows was equally influential to Mr. Bingley as Mr. Darcy had ever been, and used more to Elizabeth's satisfaction, and Mr. Bingley's felicity. Jane was soon addressed, Bingley was accepted, and they were both made the happiest of creatures, being soon married. After these delightful events, can it be any wonder that another was to follow?

Mr. Follows soon afterwards found himself charmed by Elizabeth's fine person, wit, and good humor. He expressed his affection, and, although Elizabeth could not return the sentiments, an engagement was formed.

The same evening of Mr. Follows' proposal, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw Mr. Follows rise also and follow him. When Mr. Follows returned, he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty, and, while pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, "Go to your father, he wants you in the library." She was gone directly.

Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. "Lizzy," said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be accepting this man, whom you feel nothing for? He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will that make you happy?"

"Have you any other objection than my indifference?"

"None at all. We know him to be sensible and amiable, but this is nothing if you do not care for him."

Elizabeth took her father's hand and pressed it. "My dear father, what else is there to be done? It is not at all likely that I shall receive another offer of marriage. Mr. Follows esteems me; he is intelligent, he is charming, his reputation and principles are faultless. Indeed, if I am unhappy with him, do I indeed deserve to be happy?"

"I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor _respectable,_ unless you truly esteemed your husband---unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unhappy with your partner in life. You know not what you are about."

This interview did not long continue after this point. She would not repent of her choice. Her father was unhappy, and that it should be through her means that _she_, his favorite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched reflection. She told Jane next. 

"Mr. Follows! How lovely! I never should have suspected that you loved him, but since you do I am sure you shall be very happy."

"As far as his character, connection, and situation in life, Mr. Follows is as fair a match as I shall receive.  If there is no love between us at least I may say that I respect him, and I do believe that my chance of happiness with Mr. Follows is as much as most could boast upon entering the marriage state."

"No love between you, Lizzy? What can you mean?"

"In truth, he has professed affection for me, but if it not returned, what does it matter? My situation will be secured, and I derive happiness from that." 

Jane gazed at her sister, and after the duration of a few moments in silence, recollected herself and said tenderly, "I wish you joy, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth looked archly at Jane. "If I do not have it, you shall certainly have enough to make up for mine."

Jane soon left her, and Elizabeth sat by the window in her room for private reflection. She thought of their conversation and laughed at herself. She had sounded exactly like Charlotte! Lizzy forced a smile, "At least my husband is sensible." 

She laughed again, feebly, and, in the course of the next few moments, dissolved into tears.

***

Elizabeth might be pitied now, might pity herself now, but such was not the case thereafter, for Mr. and Mrs. Follows provided ease, understanding, and affection for each other, though the esteem Elizabeth possessed for her husband was of a sort based from habit, appreciation for intelligence, and the successful management of their household. 

Mr. Follows had eleven thousand a year; the duties and pleasures of his wife were therefore proportionate to it. However, all the comforts that could be provided could not support her in her grief. Not a year after Elizabeth's marriage, both of her parents succumbed to disease. Her mother was taken suddenly; her father's illness lingered, and they had dared to hope for an eventual recovery. Such hopes were in vain. Mr. Bennet spent many of his last hours with his beloved child faithfully at his side. 

"My dear little Elizabeth..." he smiled, holding her hand. "I must be selfish and tell you, that although it pains me dreadfully to see you so afflicted, I cannot but feel fortunate to see that I have excited the love of a person so superior as you." He had then slept, to wake no more. Elizabeth's grief was deep, and long lasting. 

Life continues after loss, and more loss follows. After nine rewarding years of marriage, through the natural course of existence, Mr. Follows departed this life and, having no children and no relations on hand, left his fortune to his wife. Elizabeth, suddenly finding how much her disposition was in need of companions, rented out the estate and relocated to a fine house in the county of Derbyshire, for the sake of companionship from Mr. Bingley and Jane, who had established their home in that place. The company of Elizabeth's nephews and nieces, especially Beth, the eldest girl, were also beneficial to her. 

The time of mourning passed, and Elizabeth was free to appear to enjoy life again. 

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	2. Chapter Two

~HOME~ 

A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic

Chapter Two

Darcy collapsed into his favorite chair in his study. He now had time, and inclination, and _freedom_ for reflection. Yes, freedom, for while he was in wedlock with another woman he had always tried to push thoughts of Elizabeth quickly away from the forefront of his mind. But now that his cousin, his wife, had suddenly succumbed to the Reaper who had been calling her name all her life, he could now consider that fine-eyed woman without feeling himself guilty of infidelity in his heart . . .

I mistook the warnings for wisdom

  
From so called friends quick to advise  
  


He recalled how so many of his acquaintance were so quick to point out the evils of Elizabeth---her lacking fortune, her low relations, and, though Darcy could not exactly distinguish the fault, her disposition---his cousin had been opposite to her in everything. Bingley's sisters, whom he had spent much time in the company of that distant summer, lost no opportunity to express their disapprobation. It pained him now, to think that he too had shunned her in spite of his feelings, for the sake of her circumstances. He recollected how he had known that Lady Catherine, his aunt, would have strongly disapproved the connection, especially had she been in attendance at the Netherfield Ball.

Though your touch was telling me otherwise  
  


He closed his eyes tightly; wincing as he remembered what he had not meant to: he had danced with her there, that night. Darcy gazed at his hand, tracing with his finger where she had touched him. His heart had palpitated on account of that barely-occurring contact. She had captivated him very early in their acquaintance with her arch, yet sweet temper, apparent intelligence, and decided beauty. He knew, in society's standpoint, that he had been bestowing the honor when he stood opposite of her that evening, but now, and for some time, he had recognized and felt the honor she had given him in accepting.

Somehow I saw you as a weakness

  
I thought I had to be strong

  
Oh but I was just young, I was scared, I was wrong

Darcy thought of how foolish he had been in his actions to her. He ought to have cultivated her good opinion of him, instead of taking it for granted that because he thought well of himself, all others should as well. His pride had brought him to ignore her, the one woman who could have made him happy, who he willfully ignored. The last time they had met, it had been at the Netherfield ball, and he had paid her the interest she deserved, but the meeting before he had been resolutely cold, silent, and indifferent. How he regretted it now! His feeling of self-consequence had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so foolish as to cast off any acknowledgement of his affection for the sake of his dignity, and yet, with dire irony, ever since he had lost his power to choose his future companion in life, he had lost all of his self-respect.

Not a night goes by

  
I don't dream of wandering

  
Through the home that might have been

Darcy heaved a heavy sigh. He had never been able to forget Elizabeth, and it was certainly not for lack of trying. He never got the chance. Every night, he had that same odd dream. He was wandering the familiar halls of Pemberley, and yet they were so different from what he knew them to be. There was love lurking in the corners, the walls bathed with shining raiment of domestic contentment. It was a joy to him simply to roam the halls.

  
And I listened to my pride

  
When my heart cried out for you

The dream was sometimes vague, sometimes so real he only realized he was dreaming when he came to the part that injured him the most, just before he awoke. Throughout the halls, he heard echoes of laughter, and he was searching for the source. He would at last enter a room, different each time, and find Elizabeth there, smiling and holding out her hands to him. Then, as he tried to step towards her, he was held back, by wraiths of himself, taken from the room and forced to lock the door.

Now every day I wake again

  
In a house that might have been

  
A home  
  


Sometimes, when the dream had been very real, he would spring from his bed and leave his chamber to stand in the hall, looking up and down searchingly. And then he would weep, there, in the darkness he had created.

Guess I did what I did believing

  
That love is a dangerous thing

  
Oh but that couldn't hurt anymore than never knowing

He was sure now that Elizabeth had despised him throughout their short acquaintance. How could she not? He had been drowning in the knowledge of his consequence. If he was disgusted now, surely she could not have felt less then. He had, at one time, felt himself right in quitting the neighborhood directly after his friend, to release himself of her. What did that now avail him? He would never know if she could ever learn to care for him, because ten years ago, she too had married.

Not a night goes by

  
I don't dream of wandering

  
Through the home that might have been

  
And I listened to my pride

  
When my heart cried out for you

  
Now every day I wake again

  
In a house that might have been

  
A home

  
A home

Without being able to help it, he imagined what it would be like, with her here. She would perhaps be sitting near him now, perhaps even dozing in the chair opposite him, while he could gaze lovingly at her, her long lashes just touching her soft cheek. In an instant, he saw a child cuddled in her lap, gently breathing-NO, no! He must stop; he must! The pain was too great. He stood sharply and gazed agitatedly about the room.

  
Four walls, a roof, a door, some windows

  
Just a place to run when my working day is through

He was often in this room, burying himself in his work, pretending to be satisfied with his life, but he knew now that he would never be able to work here again, for upon entering it, he would always remember this dreadful tryst through his mind and his memories. He was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door.

"Sir?" the housekeeper called softly.

"Come in," he said brusquely.

The aging woman opened the door and stepped to Darcy's side.

"I was wondering, sir, if you should like to see the child." She uncovered part of the tiny bundle in her arms revealing a head with brown, downy hair and closed eyes. "She is very healthy, the wee babe. Very tiny though." Darcy looked down at this child, spellbound and unsure. "She shan't cry, or likely wake up for a time," continued the housekeeper, gently placing his child in his arms, "but mind her head." She looked at the child a moment. "I'll leave you to yourselves, Perhaps, sir, you might think of her name?"

They say home is where the heart is

  
If the exception proves the rule I guess that's true

Darcy looked earnestly at the infant in his arms. His infant. It was natural that his thoughts flew to what at captured them before, but he was ashamed now. Mrs. Elizabeth Follows has no business in my thoughts. There is no doubt she is happier than I, with her husband, and so it must remain---His silent resolution was interrupted. He raised his eyebrows as the tiny maiden in his arms opened her eyes. She looked at him, not moving apart from a few sleepy blinks before she closed them to sleep again. Darcy's heart was full.

He sat with his child until the housekeeper came in again to take her. "I'm glad you see you've gotten acquainted, sir, but I'm afraid I must take the little one. Have you chosen a name, sir?"

"Her name shall be Anne, of course. In memory of the departed, my mother and my wife. Come and take her, Mrs. Reynolds," said the widower briskly. Darcy watched his daughter as the capable hands of the housekeeper took her from him. "Anne Elizabeth." The housekeeper smiled and quitted the room. Darcy was soon deep in thought again.

He had a daughter. What on earth was to be done for the girl? It was certain in Darcy's mind that he wanted to be the one to raise her . . . in spite of the indifference he had always felt for small Anne's mother, she was still his child and he wanted do be the very best for her. And furthermore, he had greatly missed what company a companionable female was since Georgiana had been married. Ah, dear Georgiana, Darcy smiled. She has fared better than I.

Not very many months after Darcy's wedding, Georgiana had met and fallen in love with respectable, sensible young man, Mr. Hawthorne. He was not very rich, but he was a man of integrity and made Georgiana feel comfortable, something that Darcy felt even he had never quite succeeded in. So, when approached by Mr. Hawthorne to ask his sanction, Darcy did not answer him nay. Georgiana was, and continued to be, perfectly happy and she was now preparing for her first lying-in. Darcy could not be more glad for her (though he could not be so for himself): he learned early that if he could be unhappy with a larger fortune than he was accustomed to, she could be happy with a smaller one. Mr. Hawthorne could only become more respectable, and his strong attachment to Georgiana was an undeniable credit to him.

Darcy shook his head. He had once thought that if Georgiana would marry his friend, Bingley, there could be no better thing. Life, however, had taught him better. Bingley was also happily married, to Mrs. Follows' elder sister. Darcy had once thought there had been no affection on the lady's side, and pressed his friend to give up the acquaintance. However, the influence of one of Bingley's other friends had been applied and proved Darcy mistaken. He had thought that Miss Bennet's connections were below Bingley's, and knew that his interference would be revealed. He had been angry, and had all but given up the acquaintance. Now, however, he saw that it was better, for if Bingley was happy then Darcy ought to be happy for him.

After all, Darcy thought, I shall never be so happy myself.

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	3. Chapter Three

~HOME~  
  
A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic

Chapter Three

This was an easy resolution to make, but Darcy overestimated his resolve to keep it. Bingley, he was sure, had been offended, and our poor dear Darcy, though he could easily admit so to himself, was still disinclined towards confessing so to his friend, peer, and---as Darcy felt--- considerably happier fellow creature. Mr. Darcy also fancied that Mr. Bingley's happiness would oppress him, and didn't like to think what he would feel on seeing a _sister_ of _Mrs. Follows._ Small Anne was saying complete sentences before Darcy met Bingley again.

The morning had started like many others. Mr. Darcy had, after breakfasting, took Anne up in his arms and taken her out to the front of the house. After consulting with her, it was decided that they would drive four miles (Anne pronounced it "miwth") eastward. Anne was fond of the cool summer morning air, and Mr. Darcy was fond of indulging her. That day, however, he found it essential to disappoint his young darling. Their outing was put off by the arrival of some guests.

Darcy had been playing with Anne while they were waiting for the phaeton when they were shown in. He looked up; his eyes grew wide and he put Anne down.

"Bingley!" He heartily shook his friend's hand.

"How d'ye do, Darcy? Been a long time! You know my wife of course," Bingley smiled fondly, "Mrs. Jane Bingley, and her sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Follows, widow of Mr. Richard Follows."

Darcy faltered. _Widow..._ He instantly recollected himself and produced a stately bow.

Elizabeth looked at her former acquaintance with mild disdain as she curtseyed; she had seen his color change. Jane was Mr. Bingley's wife, in spite of all his efforts to keep them apart. He had said once that he was resentful. She fell to musings involving Mr. Darcy. Before that long ago day that the regiment had left Meryton for Brighton, she harbored a strong dislike for him, as the man who ruined Wickham. The several weeks following the departure of the militia, however, soon put an end to that strain of her ill feelings. Mr. Wickham's extensive misconduct was brought to light, and then she only hated Mr. Darcy for separating her sister and Mr. Bingley. This contempt reduced after their marriage to cool indifference and a haughty feeling of knowing she had been right, and he had been wrong.

Darcy observed her closely out of the corner of his eye. This was not the same woman he remembered. Distant, cold, not displaying her ready charm and wit as she had so unconsciously done before. "How came you to Derbyshire, Bingley?" said Mr. Darcy finally, thus interrupting his fair companion's thoughts. 

"I _live_ in Derbyshire, quite to the east, but I have just come to Lambton for visiting purposes. Mrs. Follows has friends there she keeps correspondence with…she was invited to visit. Jane found from her sister that they were her uncle and aunt Gardiner's friends, and expressed the amiable wish of knowing them also, and so it became our general scheme to come to Lambton for some weeks."

"Gardiner…why does the name sound familiar to me?" Darcy pondered intently for a few moments, then looked up at Elizabeth suddenly. "Mrs. Follows, did you not travel through here with them, several years ago?

Elizabeth, startled, replied, "Why, yes, but how did you come to know, to remember something so trivial as that from so long ago?"

Darcy inwardly kicked himself. Mrs. Reynolds had filled his ear the next morning with reports of the young lady, and the gentleman, and his wife, and all their praise of Pemberley. He had treasured Elizabeth's approval for years.

"Sometimes my memory astounds me also," he murmured. There was a silent pause for some moments, before Mr. Bingley inquired after Mr. Darcy's sister.

"She is married, and resides in this neighborhood. Mr. Hawthorne is a very good sort of man, and they quite dote on their children, Darcy and Georgiana. Darcy is a few months younger than my daughter."

"So it will be a few years before you shall have music like you once did. Mrs. ---Hawthorne, you said? --- will be playing for her own family rather than you."

"Very true. She has always been so very accomplished that I cannot imagine her giving up her instrument in spite of being married."

Anne had crept shyly up to Elizabeth, after much coaxing. Elizabeth took the little girl's hand. "And what is your name, my dear?"

"Anne Elizabeth Darcy," said the bearer of that name, only with a strong lisp.

 "_My_ name is Elizabeth too! And 'Anne' is very pretty. Your father named you well."

Anne immediately asserted that her father did everything well; Mrs. Follows laughed delightedly. Anne became quite good friends with her by the end of the visit. She asked "Mithith Fowowth" if she was going to come again, to which Elizabeth replied, looking at Mr. Darcy, "If your father invites me and my friends, I certainly shall."

"By all means, all of you must come again, and next time stay to tea," Darcy said, too quickly perhaps. Another, longer visit was arranged for three days afterward, and another and another. Darcy had possessed some hopes of conversation with Eliz---with Mrs. Follows, but no opportunity occurred until a week after the first renewal of the acquaintance.

On the first truly fine day, the party expressed the general with of taking a turn about the grounds. The Bingleys, as Jane was not such a great walker as Elizabeth, soon lagged behind the widow and widower.

"I notice you watch Anne with a sad face, Mrs. Follows. May I inquire why?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I have long enjoyed the company of Jane's dear children, but cannot be satisfied with their companionship, for it has only strengthened the wish for my own children. Your little Anne reminded me of that wish again."

"I never thought much of children, once I was married, but I am sincerely grateful to Heaven for Anne Elizabeth," replied Darcy, surprised delighted to have received such an open and confiding answer. 

Truly, Elizabeth was surprised at her answer herself. She sought after a different tangent of conversation. "Why did you call her Elizabeth? Anne, I know, was her mother's name, and your own mother's, if I am not mistaken, but I cannot attribute Elizabeth to anything."

Darcy thought frantically for a moment for a reasonable explanation. "I am merely partial to the name." _Well, it's true. She just doesn't have to know why I'm partial to it._

Elizabeth was satisfied.  A moment later she turned to him, smiling wryly. It was an expression he recognized from long ago, the one that made her eyes sparkle and prepared him to be teased and to enjoy the wit that was to come. "Once, Mr. Darcy, we tried to talk of books, but to no avail. Perhaps we might undertake it again?"

Darcy smiled good-naturedly. "I see I am not the only one whose memory reaches the trifling."

"Actually, Mr. Darcy, I can recall much of our conversations," Elizabeth looked away with artificial loftiness. She met his eyes again, "I really was rather rude to you, I realize. But then perhaps I was provoked: you slighted me, and didn't like my sister." Darcy looked appalled, and Elizabeth laughed at him. "I beg your pardon; I have never outlived the habit of 'professing opinions which are not my own', nor of 'willfully misunderstanding' everybody."

Darcy shook his head. "Mrs. Follows, this shall never do. We ought not recollect past conversations and past feelings that cannot possibly forward it, since it would not do to be at odds when we are so closely connected."

"Past feelings, you say?" Suddenly realizing that he did not dislike her, Elizabeth was struck by how much his customary gravity became him when slightly blended with gallantry, though the feeling she was struck with had nothing at all to do with their conversation. Then she remembered that this must mean that he did not dislike her sister, either. "Then you are sorry you disapproved the match between your friend and Jane?"

"Even after Bingley and your sister were married, I found my reasons behind the disapprobation to be correct, but you must understand that I genuinely rejoiced that Bingley thought nothing of them after all, and had become quite happy. Now, however, I wonder if my reasons…the lacking fortune, inferiority of connections… really had any relevance." He added pensively, looking into the distance.

Elizabeth turned her face away, blushing. There was something in his gaze that made her wonder regarding his meaning. Not looking at him, she abruptly said, "Shall we turn around and meet the others? Your daughter may be wanting you, and Jane will likely be ready to return to the house."

"Would you like the service of my arm? You look as though you are growing fatigued."

In truth, the exercise had not tired Elizabeth; the new sensations she felt were wearing her mind. Nevertheless, she accepted his arm. Darcy smiled to himself as they walked back. 

_So, Elizabeth, we meet again._

A/N: 

-I am SO glad that I am getting such enthusiastic feedback! I really, truly appreciate your opinion and am delighted to have your support! 

-I have been working on getting these to HTML format so that italic, etc. will work, and have done that, except that it's not working how I told it to on Ch. 2 and I have to idea why. So I'm just going to pretend it's hunky dory and leave it, before I get irritated.

-Oh, and I did some editing of Ch. 1 and Mrs. Follows and the Bingleys are NOT living in Lambton, like it says there. Error/typo kind of thing, I'm very sorry. Also, chapter 2 says in the text that it is chapter one. Feel free to ignore it until I get it fixed. 

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	4. Chapter Four

~HOME~ 

A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic

Chapter Four

Elizabeth set down her brush and stared intently into the mirror where she had been watching herself brush her thick, dark hair. 

_What was it?_

When she and Mr. Darcy had talked that afternoon, she had felt something. She hadn't spoken to him afterwards, because until she knew what that something was, she would rather not act in response to it. She had resolved on devoting her hours of evening solitude and quiet to contemplate on it, but now that the appointed time had come, somehow it frightened her, oddly. However, Elizabeth never liked to let things frighten her.

Elizabeth pondered a moment. What did she feel for Mr. Darcy? She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long wondered why he would be so surly as to wish Jane and Bingley apart…her other abhorrence was borne from Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth scowled to think of Wickham, and to think that she had once thought to favor him. Whatever other antagonism she harbored toward Mr. Darcy had, of course, diminished into cold indifference when Jane had married. 

But then she found out his opinion had changed on that head…and had found that he not been so disagreeable as to wish them ill, as she thought he might. With this information she could do justice to his good qualities. But she had never ever done it before, 

Elizabeth thought back to her very first visit to Pemberley. She remembered her astonishment at his housekeeper's great praise: no one was good enough for him, he was sweet-tempered and good-natured, kind to the poor, a thoughtful brother, a good master and landlord, and only appearing prideful for not being talkative. At the time Elizabeth had quite laughed at it, supposing with her aunt that he was a liberal master, thus comprehending every virtue in the eyes of his servants. Now, however, when she thought of it again, she felt that perhaps the praise of an intelligent, respectable-mannered servant who had known Mr. Darcy since he was a small boy was not to be so hastily rejected. 

New respect and goodwill welled up inside Elizabeth. After all, he had proven himself perfectly friendly in their recent meetings. With a pang she wondered if it was because she was now more equal to him in society than in their past meetings...but then she remembered that he had professed himself doubting the weight of such things as placement in society. In the past, he would be greatly concerned with such things, but now it did not seem to matter so much. _He has changed, _thought Elizabeth with a smile,_ and for the better_. 

Elizabeth thought fondly of their bantering and other bits of conversation. _Not that we have ever had a conversation that did not include bantering, _she thought a trifle sadly. Elizabeth wondered if her feeling had been one warmer than friendship...more tender. Instantly she decided to observe and try to conjecture Mr. Darcy's feelings towards her, before thinking of the possibility of her own budding sentiment any further. 

***

They could not call upon Mr. Darcy for four days hence; their other acquaintances had called away much of their time. Elizabeth could have no patience with them...her greatest wish was to talk to Mr. Darcy. Amidst the height of her impatience, as she sat at her writing table in the front room, the door was opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy walked in. Elizabeth stood, delighted, and would have begun her project immediately, but her resolution to do so dissolved when she realized an unfamiliar woman, perhaps only a few years Elizabeth's junior, had entered with Mr. Darcy. She could not but stare until she recollected herself. Darcy was greeted warmly, and he said, as soon as he could, "Mrs. Follows, Mrs. Bingley, allow me to introduce my sister, Mrs. Georgiana Hawthorne." Elizabeth smiled at herself and gave herself a mental reprimand. 

Mrs. Hawthorne had a graceful appearance, and though less handsome than her brother, there was sense and good-humor in her face. Her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle, to the relief of Elizabeth, for if she would have had time to surmise, she would have expected to find her as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been. Elizabeth remembered Mr. Wickham, once telling her long ago that Mr. Darcy's sister was quite proud and disagreeable, but she had long since learned to have no faith in anything her brother-in-law said, therefore she was not surprised to find Mrs. Hawthorne rather shy, though perfectly agreeable.

"My sister has long particularly wished to be known to you," said Mr. Darcy, once the most of their trivial topics were worn out. He had looked directly at Elizabeth, but, of course, she told herself, he was speaking to Jane also. Mrs. Hawthorne smiled charmingly in concurrence. 

Supposing that she would be doing Mrs. Hawthorne an act of kindness by beginning a valid subject, she turned to her and cordially said, "I am told you have two children. How old are they?"

She was not mistaken; her new acquaintance looked highly obliged, as did Mr. Darcy seem, for Elizabeth's taking notice of his sister. Mrs. Hawthorne talked readily and freely of her children and home for some time with fondness, and then asked, apparently happily involved, as she spoke again quite of her own accord, whether Mrs. Follows had any of her own children?

Elizabeth winced. "No; my husband passed away before I was blessed with children."

Mrs. Hawthorne looked very embarrassed, and said no more. An awkward silence ensued, until Elizabeth, wishing to clear away any estimations of her companions that she might be affronted, spoke to Mrs. Hawthorne as graciously as before. The reply was not given with the same enthusiasm, though open and good-natured; Elizabeth believed she understood that Mrs. Hawthorne was still happy to speak to her, though thoroughly ashamed for evidently causing her pain. 

Later, the conversation returned to its level of good humor and understanding, ending only when Mrs. Hawthorne reluctantly mentioned to her brother that they must be leaving. This reluctance that they would go was shared by all, thus proving that there was great satisfaction with the meeting on all sides.

***

Darcy smiled, quite pleased with the world, as Mrs. Follows was sitting next to him in his phaeton. Not exactly a shrewd or regal sentiment, but Darcy did not care in the slightest; it was natural and just. She and the Bingleys had come once again to Pemberley, and had begged to spend the late morning riding the full circumference of the park, finding Darcy happy to oblige.

Once they were on their way, Mrs. Follows turned to him. "It was so very good of your sister to come to us the other day. She is quite charming."

"I am glad to hear it you felt it so, and am very pleased to inform you that she used nearly the same words in reference to you."

"I am very flattered. I am sure I should delight in returning the call." 

An engagement was made, as they drove along, for Darcy to accompany Mrs. Follows and Mr. and Mrs. Bingley to the Hawthorne's estate. 

"Do you live in Derbyshire, Mrs. Follows?" Mrs. Hawthorne had asked during this second meeting.

"Yes, but rather far to the east; not near enough for making simple, frequent visits. I have friends in Lambton, who knew my aunt, and I am here to visit them, and naturally, Mr. Bingley comes to visit Mr. Darcy."

"How much longer shall you be in the vicinity?"

Mrs. Follows looked at her sister questioningly. "Little more than a week?"

"Eight days, to be precise." 

Darcy looked up, alarmed. He looked at the floor, thinking frantically, then muttered determinedly, "If my name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, she'll be told,"

"Did you say something, Mr. Darcy?" said Mrs. Bingley, who was sitting near him.

"I..." Darcy thought hurriedly for something acceptable to say, cursing forever the fact that his deep voice could carry so well even when he hardly spoke. He cleared his throat and used an indifferent tone as he replied. "I was just thinking aloud that it is such a pity that you all cannot stay longer. I should always be happy to see Bingley, yourself...and Mrs. Follows...for as long as you may be here."  

Elizabeth was crestfallen to hear him express this civility so airily, but hid it under a painful smile. He can feel nothing for me. He makes it a point now, when he knows I leave soon, that no sign of admiration should now escape him. He is sensible that if such an idea has been suggested his behavior during our last meetings must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Well, Mr. Darcy, consider yourself safe. I will think no more about you. Elizabeth's heart wrenched within her; this action had been exactly calculated to make her know her own heart. Until now, she never realized how much she had hope to find he held affection for her to match what she suddenly realized was her own strong regard was for him. 


	5. Chapter Five

~HOME~  
  
A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic

Chapter Five

Elizabeth did not desire to go to Pemberley again, but she could not express a disinclination for going without exciting the concern of her sister and brother-in-law, and if she _did_ explain her opposition, it would only make matters worse. So there she was in the carriage with Jane and Bingley, to visit Mr. Darcy one last time.

Jane sighed, looking out the window at the now familiar landscape between Lambton and Pemberley. "What is it, Jane?" asked Lizzy, eager to turn her thoughts away from herself.

"In spite of how much I miss my dear children and home, I was only thinking that it was a pity we are to return so soon. We have enjoyed ourselves so much." Lizzy made no reply, her own opinion too far from Jane's to guarantee her answer would be accordant with decorum. 

Mr. Darcy welcomed them genially and they spent their morning inside, much like their first visit. It was also like the first visit in that Lizzy spoke as little as she possibly could.

"It was so positively delightful, Mr. Darcy, to stroll about the grounds. And it is just such a day to be out of doors. Would it not be pleasant to go walking again?"

Elizabeth choked. She knew exactly how this would proceed: exactly as it had before. They would all be agreeable together for a time; then Jane would grow weary and lag behind on her husband's arm, leaving Elizabeth to trudge on alone with Mr. Darcy. But the satisfaction expressed by all the rest of the party at the idea of repeating the exercise left her no room but to agree, "But if you would be so kind, let us not go very far, for I am already somewhat tired."

"But we all certainly must go by that charming spot with the woods, at the edge of the water…the narrow part. If you are laid up, then I am very sure Darcy will not object to walking slower. Will you, Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy did not protest in the slightest; Elizabeth was helpless. She was in no humor to look about at trees and water for any length of time, especially as Mr. Darcy had offered the use of his arm from the beginning, as he "would never hear of Mrs. Follows becoming more tired because of his friend's imploring."

***

Darcy looked anxiously at his companion. Her face was set in a scowl and she was staring resolutely ahead. They had just reached a quaint footbridge under the shade of the Pemberley woods, a streamlet trickling beneath them. Jane and Bingley had gone ahead.

"Mrs. Follows, would you care to rest here?"

"I make no objection," she responded coolly.

They were silent as Darcy collected his wits about him. 

He took a deep breath, and plunged forward. "I can easily conjecture the foundation of your disdain…" Mrs. Follows stiffened visibly. "I am afraid my esteem for you has been too unguarded; you have detected me, and you do not approve." Pain crept into his voice slightly as he continued, "I can only say that I am sorry to have discomfited you, though I shall not and _cannot_ apologize for my feelings." Uncomfortably, he looked down at Mrs. Follows. 

She was gaping at him. "You mean to say then, Mr. Darcy, that you hold me in some…affection?" Mr. Darcy's color answered clearly. Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak, and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments were very far---exactly the opposite of, really---from being as he surmised. 

"For indeed, Mr. Darcy, " she concluded quietly, " my ill-humor was borne from the idea that _you_ had seen _my_ feelings regarding yourself, and that _you_ did not approve."

The happiness which this reply produced was such as Mr. Darcy had probably never felt before, and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he asked her for her hand. Being accepted, he told her of feelings which, in Elizabeth's learning what importance she had for so long been to him, made his affection every moment more valuable. 

They walked on, without knowing what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt and said, for attention to any other objects. After walking several miles in the said manner, and too busy to know anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that it was time to be at…

Home.


	6. A Message From the Author

Author's Message 

A huge thank-you goes out to everyone who read my story, especially to my reviewers. This story was SO much fun to write, but you guys made it all feel worthwhile. I've reread the whole thing, and tried to edit some bits and pieces, so hopefully it will make for easier reading. However, in rereading, it has really come to my attention that this is a first try of an abstract kind of idea in rough draft form. I have plans to rethink the story line, flesh out the characters, use more description...just make it a better story overall over the next year or two. 

Again, I'm so extremely grateful to everyone who thought it was a good read even in this, it's roughest form. 

Love,

Iaurore


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